


To Strive To Possess

by WroughtBetwixt



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bruises, Choking, Deal with a Devil, Disguise, Evil Plans, Gen, Implied Relationships, Implied Slash, Kissing, M/M, Master/Servant, Mildly Dubious Consent, Minor Violence, Neck Kissing, Nick is the Dark Lord, Plot, Sexual Content, Shippy, Shippy Gen, Teasing, Threats of Violence, not actually underage because Nick is an immortal fallen angel goatman deity, sorta - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-22
Updated: 2018-12-22
Packaged: 2019-09-24 11:30:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17099780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WroughtBetwixt/pseuds/WroughtBetwixt
Summary: An unexpected meeting convinces Father Blackwood to take his mission a lot more seriously.





	To Strive To Possess

Faustus Blackwood was the type of person to burn the candles at both ends.

Or, as his dead wife once said, to take the entire candle and hurl it into a furnace. Not only was Blackwood the High Priest of the Church of Night, he was the Dean of the Academy of Unseen Arts. Beyond that, off the records and away from the public eye, he had further expectations draped across his shoulders. Father, literally. A warlock of one of the highest calibers, working around the world in ways his people would never understand. Servant. He didn’t complain about a single one of his duties. They were all an aspect of who he was, who he would always be. Still. It was that last one that was causing him... trouble.

The kind of trouble that came knocking at three in the morning.

Without even opening the door, Blackwood knew who was there; he could feel the energy beyond the walls of his office, seeping through and pressing in around him like the depths of the abyss. He closed his eyes, drinking it in for a fraction of a moment. Standing, he took a slow breath and waved the door open. The young man waiting just beyond the threshold was tall, lean, and handsome, with mischief glittering in his eyes and seduction in his smile. Nicholas sauntered into the office and closed the door behind him, relaxing into a chair across the desk from Blackwood. 

“Good evening, High Priest. Fancy finding you here at this hour.”

Blackwood didn’t dare sit. He glossed over the comment, offering an amiable smile and trying to ignore the way his heart hammered in his chest. “Good evening, Nicholas. How may I serve you?”

“Mm.” Nicholas tilted his head, fixing Blackwood with an unblinking stare. His voice smoothed and deepened into a sepulchral tone. There was a lilt to the occasional word, something that would have been almost playful, had the look in those eyes not turned dagger-sharp. “I think you _already know_ the answer to _that_.”

“Your highness, I...”

“I don’t want _excuses_ , Faustus. I want _results_.”

Ducking his head, Blackwood swallowed down the desperate, harried feeling that had begun to claw at his insides. When he spoke next, he spoke with caution. “If I may, it seems as if you’re making remarkable progress on your own.”

Nicholas-- Nick Scratch, an amusing play on nicknames that Sabrina had yet to pick up on-- had been sinking his claws into the mortal-witch little by little. She was still resisting, but delivering to her an attractive face about her age had worked wonders in convincing her to stay at the Academy. With her guard dropped, it was only a matter of time before they were successful. It was a step down a long, long road that Blackwood knew he should have been more than capable of convincing Sabrina to make ages ago. Nicholas knew it, too. 

He was standing again, studying the books and artifacts that lined the office walls. His pace was languid, but he was still circling ever closer. Nicholas stopped beside Blackwood, reaching up and gently turning Blackwood’s face towards him. Close, so close. His breath was hot and laced with absinthe, warning and temptation in one. Nicholas’ thumb stroked his cheek, a sweet look on that knee-weakening face; in one swift, painful motion, he wrapped his fingers around Blackwood’s throat and slammed him backwards, pinning the warlock to his desk.

“The thing is, my dearest, I shouldn’t _have_ to.” All gentleness was gone from Nicholas as he squeezed hard. His dark, beautiful eyes had turned golden, the pupils an inhuman rectangle. When Nicholas curled his mouth into a snarl, Blackwood could see fangs. “I am stuck in this charade because _you can’t get your shit together_.”

Blackwood choked on his words. “Please, forgive me.”

“Oh, don’t _beg_ , Faustus. You have always been _loyal_ to me, isn’t that right?”

“Yes!”

“Then just don’t _disappoint_ me.”

“I won’t, your highness! I swear it!”

Nicholas eased his grip. He didn’t back away. Instead, he moved closer, their bodies pressing together as Nicholas left lingering kisses on the bruises already forming on Blackwood’s neck. His voice became a low rumble, and he chuckled as his devotee's body stirred beneath him. “Good. Do your part well,” he whispered, “and _oh_ , you will be _rewarded_.”

“I understand.” Blackwood squirmed; to get away or to get closer, even he didn’t know. “Thank you, Dark Lord.”

By the time Blackwood had finished the sentence, Nicholas... Satan... was gone. Sitting up, he slid to the floor and curled there, trembling and waiting for the fire in his veins to cool. The conversation played in his head, over and over. Everything he did, he did for the Dark Lord. He refused to let his master down. What was meant to be would be. What was promised would be delivered. And at the end of it, when Fate had worker Her own magic, he would be allowed to rest. And maybe... Blackwood shivered at the memory of lips at his throat, dread and longing mixing into a heady fog. Pushing the thought from his mind, he pulled himself to his feet, grit his teeth, and headed home to form a new plan.

Sabrina Spellman would walk the path destined for her, whatever it took. He would make certain of it.


End file.
